


midnight creatures (not even the stars can find them)

by Mercurial_Flame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bloodplay, Bloody Kisses, Dark, F/M, Forest Sex, Rough Sex, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-09 23:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15278562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurial_Flame/pseuds/Mercurial_Flame
Summary: If Fenrir Greyback ever had a crown, it was of dead leaves and branches caught in his hair like a laurel wreath, and it was buried in the forest floor.(Updated)





	midnight creatures (not even the stars can find them)

* * *

**Autumn**   **1957 - Stirling, Scotland**

* * *

 

 _She massacres an entire camping ground of drunk_ _boys_ _and leaves them scattered about the clearing in little bits and pieces of_   ** _dead_ , ** _their throats slit_ _and arms ripped to shreds and legs torn from gutless bodies and insides spilled in a horrifying display for the birds to find when they wake. The authorities will say wild animals, and they'll be right in a sense, but animals are nothing like monsters._

 

_The slaughter of the lambs was watched by him, leaning against an oak and watching the events unfold with all the rapt attention of someone engrossed in one of those Muggle films. She is beautiful like this, crimson and darkness rolled into the definition of sex and **sin** ; it causes a throb of want to go through him. He reckons it's sick, but she's sicker._

 

 _It's not just the brutality that inspired the desire; it was coupled with how_ alluring  _she appeared, death incarnate with the fires of Hell in her eyes and blood painting her in shades of **wicked.** His mate was savage, ruling her coven with an iron fist. They stayed out of a mix of loyalty and fear, because though she was the most beautiful midnight creature they have come across in all their days, they knew the vampire queen was not to be trifled with._

 

_He, however, remained at her side out of love._

 

 _Torn from his thoughts, he sees her dragging a frightened thing by the hair to him as a reward when he obeys her command to watch and shoves the whimpering boy down at his feet. He has red eyes; Fenrir will make them **redder** , she whispers the command pointedly in his ear, catching the lobe between her teeth and tugging gently. She_  _tastes like heaven and hell when she turns his head and kisses him hot and fierce. She's the closest thing to either place._

 

_"You killed my friends," the dead boy whispered brokenly as if it were a trouble to get the words out, all red eyes and tears like a crying angel. "What are you?"_

 

_He snarled bestial in his throat, curled his lips back to reveal gleaming teeth._

 

_Her voice, however, was low and **sensual** , drawing out every taunting syllable like death prolonged. Teasing hands slide bloody handprints of fire across his well-built chest, her red curls tickling his olive skin while she mouths at his corded neck and shoulder from her place behind him._

 

_"What's your name, sweet?" She croons at the boy, compelling him even through the fear._

 

_"G-Graham." He can't keep the terror out of his voice, poor boy._

 

_The vampire smiles prettily and she sounds sincere._

 

(She's not.)

 

_"Darling Graham. I do apologize for their deaths; I was merely teaching my friend," his angel nips at his jaw playfully and continues conversationally, "how to enjoy the hunt. It is . . . in our nature, I suppose you could say."_

 

_Their victim scrambles back but the **monster of the night** crushes his leg under his boot, a growl of "Not so fast, boy" coming off his lips like poison._

 

_"It's futile to fight," she purrs dangerously, iron in her tone. "But we all know it is in human nature to do so."_

 

_The boy fought till his last desperate breath. It was a stupid bout of bravery on his part, but Fenrir played the **savage** brute well. Blood stained his face and hid in his belly._

 

_He feels nothing but a thirst quenched, until a new one arises._

 

*****

 

Cuts are promises etched into his skin, the rake of lines down his chest opening up to push blood to the surface like little roses from the earth. And he is a sick son of a bitch arching into bloody claws, he even demands _more, more, more_ like a greedy pup - and she gives him what he wants because it’s what _she_ wants, slices need into his body and decorates him magnificently in crimson slashes; growls _hot hell hers_ when she bites greed into his throat; kisses blood into his mouth when she crushes her mouth to his hard, yanks pain through his scalp when she tugs at his bloody black mane.

 

The night covers them like a blanket.

 

(Only because they pull it over their bodies to block out the starlight.)

 

And they  _fucked_ in the black forest amongst the corpses with her wild curls catastrophic and his hands clutching her to him as if they can make themselves one with each other and their skin smeared in **death** and **damnation**. And they  _fucked -_

 

 **Hard,**  and she took everything he had until there was nothing left for him to give.

 

(Sadism tore the flesh from his bones and he thanked her.)

 

(She's always, always been the one with the power.)

 

She rides him with wild abandon, takes in how beautiful he is beneath her with his rough fingers digging into her hips and the reverent way he looks at her underneath his dark lashes, his black hair snarled with little branches and dead leaves and his throat bared to her.

 

 _"Mate,"_ he growls, returning her downward thrusts with slams of his own, and she hitches a breath at the powerful, meaningful word,  _"my mate, so beautiful, so strong, vicious, my mate. All mine. And . . . yours, my mate. 'M all yours."_

 

( _"Yes. **Mine** ," _she snarls with such possessiveness and passion that it makes him snap his teeth, fuck her harder in agreement.  _" **Mine. Yours. Mine.** My mate. Love my mate. Strong, gorgeous, savage mate of mine."_ )

 

The declaration was not lost on him. His arms wrapped round her back to crush her to him, kissing her for all she was worth and more and fucking up into her at a renewed, vigorous pace that had her gasping.

 

And then she threw her back. Howled like the wolf she wasn’t, nails ripping into his shoulders. He took a chance that he'd never took before, biting desire into her scarlet neck as she had done to him _(tit for tat, man always says),_ and she broke. Shattered, actually, into a thousand stars until the night was washed away with a light that only bliss could give her  _(because she was darkness otherwise.)_

 

He holds her, his forehead's knocking into hers and their noses are crashing into each other and they struggle to breathe even though she doesn't need it, and her fingers kiss his bones until they redden to the cherry wine she has at her residence in Cork, and he fucks unrelenting. Like the world is ending and she will be gone.

 

(She won't be. But he's not willing to risk it.)

 

She doesn't ask him to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *Fenrir Greyback is twenty-three years old and she's teaching him things. 
> 
> Aoife (pronounced EE - fa) is a witch who was turned into a vampire in 10th century Ireland.
> 
>  
> 
> Comments are always appreciated! Please tell me what you think! Feel free to leave constructive criticism.


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